UNBELIEVABLE
by icywhisperingkiss
Summary: Dylan wants Max, who's fake dating Fang, who's still in love with his ex, Lissa, who's dating Fang's best friend's brother, Sam, who Max wants. And they're all famous. The Flock is back. (Author's Universe, R&R!)
1. Chapter 1

Max

**_I was in trouble. Again._**And this time, it really was all my fault.

I sat in a stylish, but ridiculously uncomfortable chair in my manager's office. Fabio McDuffie was on the phone. (Okay, his actual name was Scottie Total) speaking to my PR Manager, Marian Janssen.

"I'm nineteen." I said, groaning. "This stuff happens all the time in Holly-"

Total gave me a look that almost made me pee myself. Yeah. So I shut up.

After an agonizing five more minutes of waiting, he hung up on the phone and slammed it down onto his desk, slicking his hand through his massively gelled black hair that was already perfect.

"Max, I don't want you to speak." He said. "I don't want you to say one word while I explain what I'm about to explain, because you've said more than enough already."

I leaned back in the chair.

"This stuff happens all the time in Hollywood, yes. But do you want to know why those people still have careers?"

He paused, looking at me like he wanted and answer. I started to say, "I don't-"

The guy let off a trail of jumbled, shouted words. "No! No talking. Those people have careers because they have good managers. Have you ever heard of Tory Kane? Jane Lister? Pierce Gold?"

I shook my head.

"Of course not! Because they don't exist anymore! They all had managers made of pure _suck, _and now they're in Hicksville USA following horses in their annual Corn Husk Parades, scooping up the crap on the street. And you're lucky- _so _lucky- that I'm such an incredible manager. Because honey, that would be you."

I clenched my jaw.

"Because as if getting hopelessly drunk when you're _two years underage_, going to a club and making out with a _bartender _wasn't enough, you stole his car and drove off the road on the highway, embarrassing everyone that has ever worked with you or called you their friend. Your parents would be ash-"

And that was it. I turned on my off button.

"Max, I'm sorry."

I looked behind him, at the window, thinking about nothing. My mind was blank. My emotions were raw. My head was pounding. I was done.

"Listen to me, okay? I want you to go back to your apartment and take a bath. I'll send over some food from a takeout place for dinner. And I'll be by tomorrow for lunch, and we'll talk recovery from this, okay? I'm sorry. Shouldn't have mentioned the whole parents thing."

Understatement.

I picked myself up and walked out of the office, and straight into my car, ignoring the stray paparazzi that had waited all day to talk to me. My driver, Hans, said, "To the apartment?" And I nodded. Not even his heavy German accent could  
cheer me up, and honestly, it usually could.

It was a thirty minute drive from the office to my apartment, only because of post-rush hour traffic. It usually took twenty minute.

I mumbled a thank you to Hans before walking quickly up to the front doors and sliding my key card through the monitor, like always.

My apartment looked just like always, on the fifth floor. A few months earlier, Monique Rivers, or Nudge, my stylist for all things Max had come in and redone my apartment for an interview that was going to go on, and I'd never redone it since, just in case there would be more home interviews. What did redoing my apartment mean, exactly?

Easy. Down went my red and black walls, and up went the white and blue. My dark grey leather couch was replaced with a fuzzy brown couch. There was a bamboo matt on my closet floor. My bathroom theme was _pink. _My bathroom had a theme,for god's sake. I pretty much hated everything in my place. But it won over the interviewer, so I guess all in all it worked out. Other than that tiny little detail involving me losing all of myself respect, dignity, and mental health. I was seeing pink and purple glittery dots everywhere.

I took Total's advice and took a bath. At 7:30 a girl showed up with a pizza, stuffed breadsticks, and a two liter of soda. Since it wasn't the usual healthy crap he usually sent me, I guessed he really felt bad about bringing up my family. And he should. I hadn't had to even think of them in months- _years, _maybe. And now, I had to start the cycle of forgetting them all over again.

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"Max, wake up."

I groaned and rolled over, onto my side.

"Five more minutes."

"It's been twenty minutes. Wake up, or I'm going to give Nudge permission to do whatever she wants with you for your next interview.

Oh god, no.

I sat up and walked out of bed.

Nudge was sitting on my couch, looking very uncomfortable. I didn't blame her. The couch sucked. Marian was looking disgustedly inside my fridge, and Total was sighing as I slowly made my way to the kitchen counter.

"Finally." Nudge breathed. "Max, you have to stop sleeping in so late. The blood rushing to your head is causing bags to come under your eyes and it is _so _cliché. I mean, that's so Lindsey Lohan of you. Are we going for the addict/druggie look? _I don't think so. _But if it was up to me, I'd-"

"Nudge." Marian said slowly. "No one's listening."

My poor little stylist stuck out her nose and looked out the window. Should've gotten her a lollypop.

"So what's up." I said lazily. "Are we going with a rehab plea? Troubled teen star? Because accidental drunk thing isn't going to go over."

Total shook his head. "We've come up with something a little more… Creative. Your fans will love it, and your fans are going to double, if not triple."

Ha. That's funny.

"Do you know Nicholas Fang? He's an actor. He's been on the scene since he was a kid."

I nodded. "Yeah, he was in that new romance movie, right? The one about the soldier… And that sci-fi movie."

"Yes." Total said, taking a deep breath. "His manager is Anne Walker, the retired model. She contacted me a while ago about this, and I never considered it as a viable opportunity for you, but now… I've decided it's the best way to move past this stunt and expand your fan base."

I rolled my eyes. He was so weird. My mind tuned out, thinking about my canceled interview for tonight with Ellen DeGeneres. Now _that _sucked. I'd been looking forward to going on there for-

"And then you'll move in with him."

I snapped back to attention. "What?"

Total frowned. "You zoned out again, didn't you?"

I nodded again.

"You're going to get to be friends with Nicholas. Then, you'll start dating. Move in with him. Maybe audition for a movie with him. Then, after your tour is sold out with his fans because he'll promise to sing a song at every show, you'll tour with him, and then break up."

My jaw dropped out. "You're kidding, right?"

"I'm serious. This is what we're doing."

They all picked up their things and walked towards the door.

"He'll be coming over tomorrow at 10:30. I expect you waiting for him in the lobby, and looking excited."

And he left.

I wondered, Is this just a really bad hangover? Am I imagining it?

But I looked on my twitter that night and browsed onto his page. His most recent tweet had me tagged in it.

**_Can't wait to hang out with MaximumRide tomorrow =)_**

And I replied.

**_Can't wait, NickFang982. It'll be a blast. Thanks to our managers to suggesting it._**

My words dripped with sarcasm and anger. If he couldn't see that hint, I didn't know how else he would.

**Thoughts? R&R. **


	2. Chapter 2

Yeah. So it was 11:00, and he wasn't there. PO'D doesn't describe how I felt.

I was standing in the lobby, making myself look excited. Total had texted me every five minutes telling me to do so, and there was a crowd of paparazzi outside taking pictures, so I had to.

My best friend, Angelina, or Angel, was taking a video on her IPhone. She'd flown in from New York in the middle of the night because Total had called, and she personally knew Nick, but wouldn't tell me anything about him.

So while I was waiting, I thought about my morning.

I'd woken up at 6:00 because a certain blonde had gotten in from the airport and made an absolute _crap-load _of noise, and after convincing her to go out and get Starbucks for us (I know, I'm such a good friend) fell back asleep on the couch until 6:30. She insisted I get started on Project Amazingly Drama-Free appearance. The project name was her idea. (PAD. God, sometimes I wondered why we were even friends.)

She put on The Walking Dead (My Kryptonite) and told me to stay. I did, wondering why, and realized it was a trap when she came back from the guest room with a curling wand, a fistful of hair pins, and a tote filled with makeup.

I was subject to _that _for the next two hours.

She pinned up half of my hair and curled it, thanking me for growing it out so that it fell a little below my chest. She put makeup on my face, then did something with eyes so that they looked deep and wide, and put on cherry red lipstick.

At 9:00, I'd been forced into a pair of skinny jeans, short grey Ugg boots, a cream colored sweater, and a black pea coat. (Nudge had bought all of them in attempts to get me to wear them, and I never had.) Then, we'd gone out for bagels to ease the nerves.

Ha-ha. Kidding. We just really wanted bagels.

After that, we went back to the apartment and watch The Walking Dead until it was 10:25 and Total was speed texting me, telling me to get downstairs _now _because Tiger Beat hadn't posted an article about me yet, which was either a miracle or an inside scoop that I wasn't doing what I was told. Second option reigned supreme.

So Angel grabbed her IPhone and we were downstairs in the lobby two minutes later.. She recorded from the moment she ended her, "You can do this. Fake relationships can be OK," speech in the elevator, and hadn't stopped, even though he was late.

"Where is he." I hissed through my teeth, still smiling, and pulling out my IPhone.

I jumped onto twitter, but he hadn't posted anything since the tweet the night before. I sent out a tweet to him saying,

**_ NickFang982, Where are you? ;) _**

****Ew. I never used wink faces. But it worked. Less than a minute later, a picture was tweeted to me. It was Kokomo Avenue- one of my favorites parts of LA. Why?

Well. That's personal.

**_ MaximumRide, The traffic is terrible. I'm stuck in this disgusting part of town. I'll be there in thirty, alright? =) _**

****Disgusting?

Oh no he didn't.

"Why's he late?"

I rolled my eyes and turned to Angel. "Traffic. He'll be here in half an hour, so let's get drinks and come back."

She smiled. "Icees?"

"7-11, _pronto."_

Before we left, I sent out a generic tweet.

**_Fun fact #1 about me- Kokomo Avenue, LA is my favorite part of the city._**

****He sent out a reply.

**_MaximumRide, =)_**

****Because we really needed that extra tension.

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And twenty five minutes later, Angel was recording again, and I was acting nervous. But honestly, I _was _nervous. I was about to meet the guy I'd be living with in a few short months. What if he smelled like, God Awful? What if he was a total jerk? What if he thought he could… Use me, or whatever. What if-

"Max?"

A hand touched my arm. I'd drifted off again.

"Oh my g-"

Nick Fang's smirking face was a foot away from mine, and I could tell he was holding back a laugh. He'd snuck up on me and touched me quickly from behind, making me jump a foot in the air.

"Jerk." I said, forcing a smile and a laugh. He just smirked and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. Angel went, "Aw," for the sake of the show. At least, it _had _to be for the sake of the show, or I would've killed her.

And that little fear I had about him smelling really bad? Um, yeah. He was wearing Calvin Klein.

That'll do.

** Thoughts?! R&R!**


End file.
